


Brick by Brick

by tianaluthien



Series: Project Neal [3]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, SwanThief, Swanfire - Freeform, True Love, baby steps
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 04:16:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3754201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tianaluthien/pseuds/tianaluthien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Directly follows "A Fighting Chance". Emma brought Neal back from the dead, but where does that leave them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brick by Brick

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by "Brick by Brick" by Train.

Storybrooke slept.

Or rather, it tried. With the Wicked Witch of the West – “Seriously?” Emma muttered, hiding her face in the hot chocolate – in possession of Rumpelstiltskin’s dagger, the chances of anyone sleeping through the night were slim to none.

So she wasn’t going to bother trying. Especially not after today – not after almost losing Neal _again_ , then kissing him back to life in a bloody blaze of white magic, and then wondering where in hell that left her, them—

“We’ve really got to stop doing this,” she mumbled, taking another sip from her now-tepid cocoa.

Neal snorted. “This town is fucked up.”

“Now there’s an understatement.” She hunched her shoulder, clutching at the mug, and stared down at the ground. They sat on the roof of Snow and David’s apartment, legs dangling over the edge. From this height they could watch the leaves skitter through empty streets, and see the harbor waters glistening in the moonlight, the Jolly Roger bobbing gently by the dock. Somewhere nearby a pirate would be skulking (or was it sulking? He didn’t take defeat gracefully, that one), and a werewolf would be keeping watch over Belle.

But she didn’t see them here, in the streets. In the streets that were so ridiculously, deceptively peaceful. If she didn’t know any better, she could almost believe Storybrooke was no more than a small town in backwoods Maine.

_Right. When hell freezes over, Swan._

Sighing, she looked at the man beside her. The one she’d lost so many times and was terrified of losing again. The one she’d loved and hated and was terrified of _still loving_. The one who put her first, who had her back every single time even when it meant he did something so incredibly _stupid_ because of it.

“I don’t know how to do this,” she whispered. “You and me. I don’t—Neal, I don’t know how.”

He swirled the remains of his coffee and downed it. Set the mug down carefully. Then he glanced at her. “Do you _want_ to?”

The question gave her pause and she felt something burning in her eyes. _Hell._ It would be so much easier to run, to run back to New York, to run into the arms of a pirate, to run anywhere except back to Neal.

Of course, if she’d wanted easy, she never would have hung around after bringing Henry back to Regina.

“Yes,” she said, meeting his eyes. Those beautiful, warm brown eyes. She reached for his hand, laced her fingers through his, felt the way his hand molded to hers. He _fit._ “I’m done running away.”

The smile that lit up his made her heart ache; he looked like a lost boy who had just come home.

“Then _we_ do it together, like we used to,” he said. “We’ll figure it out.”

She smiled, or tried, and leaned her head on his shoulder, the wool of his coat scratching her cheek. She’d forgotten how good his shoulders felt, the sense of strength and safety that infused the cold and dark corners of her heart when he put his arm around her.

_Tallahasee, baby. We’re almost home._


End file.
